


Let’s Not Talk About Fates but Throwing Knives is Child Play, Right?

by Archivus



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Gen, Kid Skye - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:20:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23667520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archivus/pseuds/Archivus
Summary: Mary Sue Poots a.k.a Skye goes to a carnival where she somehow gets lost in the crowd. Then, she meets Clint, who is determined to help her. Add in a gypsy with prophetic verses as backbones who is set on to collect all pieces to a puzzle she has had for ages. And... are those knives? What are you doing with those knives, Clint?A companion piece to my multi-chapter story ‘Of Quest and Prophecy’.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Skye | Daisy Johnson
Kudos: 56





	Let’s Not Talk About Fates but Throwing Knives is Child Play, Right?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to my multi-chapter story ‘Of Quest and Prophecy’. I wrote this a few years ago with a little revision here and there as I started drafting and expanding the universe where I based my stories in. It can also be read as a standalone. Enjoy.

Oh no. She looked around, searching for Mrs. Rinaldi. How did she lose her? Mary was just there walking next to her when she suddenly found herself alone in the middle of the carnival. Right, good things never happened to her. Her day started brilliantly when Mrs. Rinaldi told her at breakfast that they were going to the carnival that just arrived in town; just the two of them as her husband had to work that day.

When she didn’t see Mrs. Rinaldi, she got scared and her vision started to blur. Crying would not solve her problem. So, she reigned in her tears and began walking around the carnival, frantically looking for her foster mom. Then, she backtracked her steps, which didn’t yield anything and it plummeted Mary’s spirit.

‘Where is she?’ she thought repeatedly. After a while, another thought came to the forefront of her mind. ‘Was she being left behind on purpose? Mrs. Rinaldi won’t do that. Right?’ A multitude of feelings assaulted her. Fear, insecurity, anger, betrayal, denial and lastly, acceptance – just the normal feelings for Mary, the foster child nobody wanted. Lost in thought, Mary, who was not looking where she was walking, bumped into someone – a teenage boy – and she fell down.

“Oof. I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” the boy apologized sheepishly.

Then, she felt it. The burning sensation behind her eyelids, the urge to sniffle and she was helpless to stop it. Mary tried. Oh, how she tried to be strong and not a crybaby. She just had to accept that she was not strong enough and it was too hard for her – she cried. She could feel the boy staring at her, but she couldn’t stop the tears. And so she cried until she felt like there were no more tears to cry.

~~~~#####~~~~

Clint was walking endlessly after finishing his show where he performed with bows and arrows. Archaic weapon, yeah. But he was the best archer there was. He was trying to get out of doing his chores at his tent when he literally walked into a little girl. He quickly apologized and helped her up. When she didn’t say anything and just stand there with her eyes glazed, Clint started to panic and began to ask her where her parents were. That was when she cried. The girl was a silent crier. She didn’t make any noise, just a few sniffles here and there. When her waterworks stopped, they began talking. Well, more like Clint coaxed her for information.

“Umm…hey kid, you’re okay? What’s your name?” When she replied, Clint was flabbergasted. “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.” Oh, a smartass. “I’m Clint. Now that you know my name, we’re no longer strangers. So, what’s your name?” he assured her. The girl just looked at him, like, really looked at him, her face blanked of any expressions until he felt a little bit self-conscious that the tips of his ears turned red. How the hell did she do that? It lasted for quite a while before she said softly, “Mary.”

Then, they talked a bit about themselves and why Mary was alone at the carnival. Sighing, Clint later promised to help her find her foster mom. He couldn’t just let this little girl alone by herself and lost in the middle of nowhere! The least he could do was accompanied her in her search of this Mrs. Rinaldi. The girl also reminded him of a baby he used to look after at St. Agnes before he ran away.

~~~~~####~~~~~

They walked and walked all over the ground of the carnival but Mrs. Rinaldi was nowhere to be seen. So they walked back to the entrance where the information counter was situated. On the way there, they visited a few booths and played some games. Clint won a stuffed owl for Mary at a shooting booth. They also stopped at a tent of a fortune telling gypsy who was adamant to read them their fortunes. Declining seemed futile. So, they let her. She read Clint’s first.

_Great adventures call your name,_  
_Rise up high and perfect your aim._  
_Obstacles, you’ll meet them, again and again;_  
_As black and white are nothing like grey to you._  
_Your conscience is what strengthens you._  
_No matter what happens,_  
_Whether you get confused or frightened;_  
_And you might run for the hills,_  
_Even if blood is spilled,_  
_You’ll come back strong and healed._  
_For in justice and chaos, you’ll be the shield;_  
_Fierce like a hawk in the sky will,_  
_As per the life path you are destined to fulfill._

Obviously, both Clint and Mary understood none of it but they just nodded when the gypsy lady said that. When it was Mary’s turn, the woman grew quiet. Then, she looked at Mary and looked at her crystal ball next before she started to utter gibberish. This behaviour was making them nervous. Mary started to feel scared when the woman asked to read her palm and then consulted her crystal globe again. Was her fate that unreadable that the fortune teller had to look at her palm and the globe – twice!? Or was it that she had such a terrifying destiny that rendered the gypsy speechless?

After what seemed like a lifetime, the woman spoke as if in a trance, in a weird language, which they later learned was Greek. Watching confusion on the kids’ faces, she translated her reading on Mary’s destiny into English.

_Amazing journey you’ll tread upon,_  
_Challenges litter along your way,_  
_End of the road it seems, it might,_  
_But your persistence will help you navigate,_  
_However many routes you’d take,_  
_Never would your strides break._  
_You transform your life and are reborn like a flower blossoms after the rain,_  
_Love and hate intertwine like vines in vain,_  
_Your curse is your gift,_  
_Though it causes you pain never you fear in taking risks,_  
_For you won’t suffer for long,_  
_Cause what hurts you is what makes you strong._  
_Right or wrong,_  
_Do or don’t,_  
_Real or fake,_  
_Every choice you contemplate,_  
_And decision you make,_  
_Even if it seems far-fetched_  
_When everything is at stake,_  
_Be that as it may but do not lose faith,_  
_Believe in yourself and you’d soar high,_  
_The sky will not limit your sight if you just open your eyes,_  
_Whatever complication lies ahead my dearest,_  
_It would not shield you from your destined paths,_  
_And the fated one once hidden would then extend beyond the open skies._

~~~~####~~~~

It was quiet for a while after the fortune teller stopped speaking. The three of them were looking at each other for a few silent minutes. As an empath, the gypsy woman could feel the disbelief and confusion that were plainly portrayed on their faces. She could also detect fear and a little hope as well as resignation that came in like waves at her, more from the girl than the boy. Somehow she understood that whether they believed her or not, they knew their fates were not easy and their futures were not going to be as pretty as rainbows, fortune telling be damned. “Do you know what that means?” she asked softly.

“Umm, difficult life in the future? Now is already tough enough though.”

“Our lives would suck? Not that it’s that good at the moment anyway.”

“I’m cursed?”

“I’ll be mortally wounded? How bad will it be?”

“I’ll be hurt? That’s nothing new.”

“I’d always be scared and confused? You said I’d run for the hill? I’d chickened out? What the hell?”

 _“_ Clint, language!” the girl chastised the boy.

“Seriously? Language?” The boy, Clint, asked incredulously.

“Yes.” She gave him a pointed look. _“_ I recognized _contemplate_ but what’s _far-fetched_ anyway? Never heard of that word before. _Complication_ too. Big words. I’m only four.” The gypsy could see the crease between the girl’s brows and the tick on her jaw. Not knowing seemed to bother her a lot though why would that be, she had no idea.

“You know _contemplate_ but not the other two?” The boy did look skeptical at this.

“I’m four, not stupid.” Oh, she’s a sassy one especially with that arching an eyebrow gesture of hers.

“Umm...Okay, smartass. Far-fetched means unlikely to be true…I think. And complication means difficulty or problem.”

“Oh,” the girl, Mary, breathed softly, lost in thought that was too chaotic for a child. Trying to feel her emotions left the gypsy feeling dizzy. She was bombarded with such erratic feelings that she couldn’t pinpoint anything specific. It was an amalgamation of dreadful feelings so painful that she had to put up her mental wall to block them.

“What do you mean by _like a hawk_ and _be the shield_? Should I have a pet hawk? That’s too much work. I can barely take care of myself, let alone a pet. What’s with the shield anyway? This is all so confusing” he grumbled.

“Does it mean that what I want is unlikely to be true and all I’d face in the future are problems?” The little girl whispered quietly, feeling dejected.

Looking at the crestfallen looks on their faces, the gypsy’s face softened and spoke gently to them. “Life is an adventure. You’ll face a challenging life, both of you. But, you’re both strong, you’ll beat the odds. Just believe in yourselves, lead with both your heart and mind. Do your best and you’ll find the way that’ll lead you to be who you’re supposed to be. And when you do, you would be amazing people that others look up to.”

She spent a few minutes reassuring the children that they were strong and would be able to brave the difficult lives in this cruel world. That they would be incredible people. All they had to do was be strong and brave enough to take risks. The most important thing was for them to be themselves and trust that they can have good futures. They just had to try despite what the prophecies had in store for them.

She also added that yes, they’d have brittle road in front of them. Yes, they’d make mistakes. There would be moments when they’d find everything was too much. They were only humans. But they would persevere and do the best that they could because they were resilient. Yes, there would be gloomy days but they’d see happy times too. Such was life. Plus, she had faith in them.

Reassured that their fates were not totally doomed, that they could have good lives in the future, the children thanked her and went out of her tent. She also gave the girl a hobo sling bag with a few items hidden within a special pocket. Mary refused to take it, saying she shouldn’t because she didn’t earn it. Persuading her to take it was exhausting. However, the fortune teller was relentless. Added to the fact that it was imperative that the girl had the bag and everything inside it, she mollified her by saying that it was an old bag and it needed a new owner. Besides, she didn’t have enough space to store unused items. In the end, she conceded after Clint opined that she could stow the stuffed owl in it. After thanking her again, they left.

In the many years since she was born, she knew that this was a part of the divination she received a long time ago. She had dreaded the time that would come. She had lived many different identities in a number of different places. Nowadays she went by Ramona, the gypsy lady who told fortunes. She sighed, rubbing her temple. She still got the residual headache from the assault of Mary’s chaotic mind. That girl was special. There was something about her that Ramona was certain wasn’t entirely human. She could be a descendant of something powerful, a magical being, a god or a goddess. Heck, she may have had an ancestor who was a resident of the underworld or even aliens in her blood.

She had faith in them, that they would overcome the worse and came out stronger. What she didn’t tell them was that they had to be strong and had to live such challenging lives to prepare themselves. She did wish that they would be strong enough because the future would need them. Humanity would depend on them. Them and a few others. The chosen ones. Pieces of a puzzle. She could clearly see the glimpses of them being the shields from the unknown, saving the world and beyond.

She guessed now it was time for her to go to where the next piece of the puzzle was. She was so tired of waiting for all the pieces to appear. It had been ages since the premonition that she found the first few pieces, unsurprisingly during the war. Now that all of them were within the same timeline, she could see more clearly. It looked like she had her work cut out for her. Apparently, she had many places to go and people to see to force unto them their parts of the whole damn extensive aged old bloody prophecy.

Ramona turned to wave at her crystal ball and began chanting.

_Well, my trustworthy crystal ball,_  
_this has been fun and all,_  
_but my body and mind had taken too much toll._  
_So, lift up the world’s wall and tell me in whole,_  
_where would I find the next chosen soul?_

After a while, the crystal went murky and then changed to show the next destination. “Huh. Los Angeles. Hmm… two people.” She murmured to herself. She also saw someone she’d met around 5 years ago to whom she’d told the vision. Yup. One of the pieces. “I thought she is still lost in space. Hmm…maybe it’s time she come back planetside.”

Ramona believed that this was all connected. Things were much clearer now. She had to plan how she’d approach this time around as these two were more skeptical and much harder to convince. Well, she just got to do her best. The safety of the world was at stake. Such was the burden she carried on her shoulders. Sometimes, she wondered if she was cursed to be chosen as such.

“Well then LA, here I come.”

~~~~####~~~~~

Clint and Mary walked towards the information counter in silence at first, contemplating their fates. Was it weird that they somehow sort of memorized the verses the lady said? At the same time, they were also looking around for Mrs. Rinaldi. However, their search was fruitless. Unable to stay quiet any longer, Clint rambled about how he joined the carnival and what was it that he did there. After informing the woman at the counter about Mary being lost, Clint mentioned that he would entertain Mary in his tent and to have someone showed Mrs. Rinaldi the way there when she came asking.

To kill time, Clint tried to teach Mary to shoot a few arrows. It was futile as the bow was too big and too tough for Mary to use. So, Clint taught her the second best thing he knew – knife throwing. However, Mary didn’t find this as exciting as Clint did and she gave him the look of incredulity no little girl should have been able to give. And the eyebrow thing? Really? You would think that only adults could pull that. She was not even five, dammit!

“Knife throwing?” She frowned at the knife in Clint’s hand.

“Yes. They’re pretty small knives. Fit in your hands,” he reasoned.

“I’ve never done this. Besides, I’m four. Four year old kids don’t use knives.”

Undeterred, Clint demonstrated how to throw a knife to the said four-year-old. “Well, it’s pretty easy. Just brace your feet like this and hold the tip of the blade carefully so that you don’t nick yourself –“

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“-Then, aim and throw.”

Swoosh…the knife was thrown and immediately embedded right in the middle of the target.

“Bullseye! See? Now, you try.”

Mary was a reasonable girl. She was smart and practical. She liked challenges. They built strength. They stimulated her brain. They even trained her to deal with pain.

The bigger kids at the orphanage loved to bully…err…challenge her to do things she shouldn’t do. Like sneaking into the kitchen and smuggled cookies out at night or pranking the nuns. It was not that she was not scared. She was terrified most of the time. If she was honest, she even enjoyed doing them. Not like she’d tell any of the other kids anyway. However, whenever things like these happened, she’d evaluate the situations and took the actions that would least likely to cause her troubles. Alas, trouble somehow was dying to be her friend. Hence, all those mischief she was caught on doing.

Sister Clara would smirk and sneer every time she got to give Mary her punishments. With a paddle, or a pointing rod (she didn’t know what it was called) and whatever she had nearby. She’d had bruises on her backside and the back of her thighs as proof to that.

Nevertheless, she also never wasted any opportunities to learn something new. This could be a skill she could harness, for safety reasons of course. Living in an orphanage was tough. She might get herself in tight situations. Though, it was unlikely that she would wield knives against the other kids. But then again, a girl got to be able to defend herself.

So, naturally she imitated Clint’s stance, aimed and threw the knife. It landed on the ground a few feet away from where they stood. Her second throw landed a little closer to the target but still on the ground. So did her next few attempts. This was making her annoyed and she continued to give the knives and the bullseye her version of the glare of death.

It was cute the way she concentrated her focus and then huffed in annoyance when the knives did not go where she intended them to. Clint pictured steam rising from her every time that happened and found it funny. He stifled his laugh and whenever Mary looked his way, he pretended to cough. That girl was very perceptive. She knew he laughed and glared at him that had him flinched a little.

Seeing that Mary was getting angry, Clint helped by showing her how to do it again. She seemed to be able to throw further and the knife did not land on the ground this time around. It was, however, buried on a wooden crate not far from the wall. Well, at least, she hit something, right?

Clint later suggested lowering the pesky rounded target and telling Mary to move nearer to it. He really hoped that she would be able to hit it even if it was only the edge of the board. Mary could hear him muttered under his breath that he so did not want to deal with a tantrum. Hah…like she’d do that. She was totally in control of her emotions like any four year old who had been shuffled across foster homes, rejected again and again did.

Mary vowed to hit the target at least once before Mrs. Rinaldi came to pick her up. She was not a quitter. Even though she was quite dissatisfied with Clint moving the target, she rationalized that it was her first time doing this. So, of course she should be allowed some leeway. Clint said to picture the target as something or someone she really disliked. Huh…that might help. Well, Sister Clara could have the honor. Or maybe Kyle from the orphanage and his goons.

Mary braced herself, glared at the target and then at the small weapon in her hand before focusing on the bullseye again and throwing the knife. It hit. She whooped triumphantly. Though it didn’t seem to matter to her that the knife did not even land within any circles, just the fact that it was buried right on the board was more than enough to make her happy. So they practised again.

They had a relaxing conversation about anything and everything that they could talk about. Both were purposely avoiding talking about the future. They were still wary about what happened at the gypsy’s tent but both of them agreed to write down the prophecies as much as they could remember, just in case.

By the time Mrs. Rinaldi found them, Mary was able to throw the knives within the circles on the target. Both Mrs. Rinaldi and Mary thanked Clint. Before they left, Clint gave Mary his old set of throwing knives as a parting gift – out of Mrs. Rinaldi’s line of sight of course. After all, knives were not suitable for child play, right? Nonetheless, he could see the gleam in her eyes. Oh well, she’d find ways to use them creatively. That girl was a smartass. He wondered what mischief she’d get herself into in the future.

Little did he know, it was bizarre enough and she had the front row seat to the weirdest adventures on earth that would eventually cross path with his, twenty odd years later. Huh, it was a small world after all.


End file.
